Red Velvet
by demondreaming
Summary: Cat's a dealer. She gives her friends what they want, she gives them everything, and all too often she's left with nothing. But Tori's different. Tori's a user, but she hasn't yet become an abuser. Maybe she wants more from Cat than just the pills. Rated M for rampant drug use.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If Victorious belonged to me, it wouldn't be able to air on Nickelodeon. Or any respectable channel.**

**A/N: Credit for the title (and the role the title plays in this fic), goes to mygingernewyear. Follow them on tumblr, or, if you like the title (and it will become more significant), go and tell them how brilliant they are!**

/

Loneliness ate away at Cat like a cancer. It gnawed her bones, chewed away at her stomach, her lungs. It swallowed everything inside her until there was nothing left, until there was just aching emptiness and a memory of being whole.

Sure, she had friends. She was Robbie's wet dream. She was Jade's pet. She was Beck's little sister and Andre's toddler. They both treated her like a kid, like a baby just learning how to walk. She'd hoped Tori was different, and it started out that way. It started with hope and promise and a swollen heart just like it always does. Part of her thought maybe Tori really did like her. Most of her acknowledged that what Tori really liked was the weed. That was all anyone really liked about her. The pot, the pills, the parties. Everyone's nice to their dealer, but no one really likes them. Cat supposed she could always stop giving them to her 'friends'. Just cut them off, cold turkey. But then they'd leave, and at least when they were around they masked the rumbling of her empty insides.

Maybe if she hadn't gotten Tori to try the pot, things would be different. If she hadn't held the joint out to the curious brunette, gently encouraging her. Tori had taken it, sitting indian style on the floor, her fingers clumsy, pinching the thin paper. She'd been so nervous. Cat had grabbed a stuffed bunny, clutched it to her chest as Tori had inhaled, coughing and spluttering. It was just the two of them, at Cat's house. It was just the two of them in her room, and this was what people did with their friends. It was all Cat knew. When you were with a friend, you took things, you did things, you shared.

Cat had shown Tori the proper way to inhale. How to draw it deep into her lungs and let it sit. She'd been so nervous, so, so nervous. Shaking hands and tight shoulders. Cat had felt useful, had felt smart, as she'd instructed Tori in something that was so simple to her. She was helping Tori, and that was what friends did.

Tori always did it with Cat, at first. Cat was the only one she knew who held. Cat was the one everyone knew. They'd get together after school, and giggle and pig out and they'd both feel so much better. But it wasn't the drugs that did that for Cat. They didn't make things better. Just stopped them from getting worse. A few giddy sleepovers at Tori's had resulted in _T____he Funny Nugget Show_, and Cat had watched those over and over at home. Watched the way Tori touched her, draped over her. It couldn't just be the pot that made her act that way. It couldn't be. But then Tori had shoved a few wadded up bills into Cat's hand, palms sweating, and Cat had handed it back, along with a baggie. What were friends for? She didn't see Tori so much after that.

___The Funny Nugget Show__ t_urned into an excuse to touch her. To be able to hug someone and not have them ask why. To not have them ask if she was high, or if she was stupid, or if she was crazy. She already knew she was all those things. She just wished people didn't blame her every action on them. Like she wasn't capable of thinking, or acting without something impairing her. She wished she'd never handed that joint to Tori, wished it hadn't even occurred to her to do so. She could've kept Tori clean, kept her just hers. Cat knew that Tori would've gone away anyway. They always do. The only reason she had any friends at all was because of what she could give them, and she gave them everything. Everything she had, and they took it all. Except for her. They never took her.

So she took the pills.

She had red ones, blue ones, yellow ones, green ones. All the colours of the rainbow. Ones to make her happy, ones to make her sad, ones to help her sleep, ones to keep her awake. But out of all these skittles, orange was her favourite. Orange was for forgetting. Orange was for dreams. It wasn't hard to get them at all. Therapy wasn't really therapy, it was just an interview for medication. To see whether they needed to send you up or down. It was like playing with an abacus. They'd slide one bead, one pill over, and see what that added up to. Then they'd slide it back, or add another. Cat was never the number they wanted. She never added up for them.

She was a ball of yarn without a kitty to play with her, so she stayed tangled up and tight. She stayed untouched, but the pills let her touch herself. They let her unravel and pool on the ground. If pills were her bed, pot was merely a throw pillow. Something to soften her fall. It wasn't like she had a shortage of it. Her brother practically had a whole forest out the back of their house. Their parents weren't around enough to really notice. They didn't particularly care anyway. There was nothing wrong with breaking the law, so long as one wasn't dumb enough to get caught. They paid for Cat's therapy, bailed her brother out when he got arrested. The biggest part of her parents wasn't their hearts, it was their wallets, and that's about the only thing they opened to their children. They spent most of their time travelling. Where, Cat wasn't sure, but they sent postcards sometimes.

This one was from somewhere with neon lights, a bright sign splattered over the front. The message on the back was brief. _B____e good. Take care of your brother. We love you.__ T_he usual. Cat's stomach rumbled, the petite girl twisting on her bed, postcard slipping off the covers. That's right, she hadn't eaten since lunch. She drew her knees up, curled on her side. Her head was swimming. When she'd gotten home the colours in her room were too bright. Too bright. They'd hurt her eyes, so she'd shut them for a while. It was darkening now. It was better. She dug into her bra, finding the coil of cherry licorice stashed within. She knew candy would rot her teeth, but didn't everything? Besides, she could always just get some metal teeth, like the man in that James Bond movie. She giggled to herself, gnawing at the candy. It was warm and soft from her body heat, taste growing thick and sticky in her mouth. If she chewed it enough, if she ground it and ground it until it mixed in her mouth, it'd colour her teeth red, make her saliva into a scarlet paste she could paint with. She'd done it before, dotted her sink with this faux blood.

Cat swallowed thickly, pulling the rest of the red rope from her bra and letting it slip to the ground. It wasn't like she had a shortage of it. Her mom always made sure she had plenty of money for food.

The house was empty, her brother out with his friends. Or maybe he was doing business. Cat wasn't sure. It was the same thing to her. She was alone again, and it wasn't okay. Red pills. That was what she needed. They'd make her fly, make her swoop and soar until it was tomorrow, and she could go to school again. Her friends pretended to like her in school. They sat near her and they jostled their shoulders with her and they talked to her in a voice that didn't want something, a voice that wasn't low and slightly pleading. They never sounded like that in the daylight, and Cat thought that maybe they were scared of the dark, that they needed all these things to chase it away. Maybe that was what made their voices turn to needles. Maybe they were just like her, and couldn't bear the dark alone.

She placed the pill she'd swiped from her bedside table on the tip of her tongue, curling it back into her mouth. It had a slightly chalky taste, one that cloyed with the heaviness of the cherry licorice. It made her mouth feel like ash, but she knew it'd make her brain feel like a fire, like her fingers were flames and her heart was a giant ember, glowing red. Her dreams would be tinged red tonight.

Cat's brow furrowed as she turned on her side, struggling to get comfortable. But they weren't alone. She fixed her gaze on her outstretched hands, blue in the sparse light that spilled through her blinds. Were her friends like her, even now? Were they ensconced in their rooms, lights off, wondering why they were so alone, why on a bed for two, there was only one? But no, they weren't alone. They kissed each other, and they fucked each other, and they dated. They spent a week glued together, and then it dissolved and things were the same. It was a game of musical chairs, and Cat never found somewhere to sit. She twitched her fingers in the tiniest of movements. Such a tiny motion, but it tugged at a long line of muscle underneath her forearm. Such a tiny stone thrown, with such a big ripple. It was funny how muscles worked, thought Cat. They stretched out in thin ropes, or sat in short, curved bunches, and they flexed and tugged each other and somehow worked together. Sometimes she wanted to strip away the skin, see how her muscles played with each other, how they danced and shivered. She thought maybe it'd be like underneath the lid of a grand piano. Touch the keys, and watch the shaking strings make the melody. Watching them shift underneath her skin was enough.

She wondered if her friends did this, when they fucked each other. Whether they noticed every little thing, how every breath affected their bodies, how every soft sound rumbled in their throats. Maybe they just focussed on the pleasure, on the in and out she glimpsed through a door left ajar. Maybe that's all she would do too.

That pleasure.

Cat ran her fingertips along her opposite arm, tracing the quiet skin. She wondered if it felt different with someone else. Mmm, it had to. She blinked, rolling onto her back. The pill was kicking in. The edges of her vision smouldered, like a photograph being eaten by flame. Yes, it had to. Her flaming fingertips sparked over her stomach, searing under the waistband of her loose pyjama pants. How would they feel? How would they touch her?

Robbie would be awkward. His thin fingers stuttered over her panties, grazing all the wrong spots. His breath would smell like french onion dip, and he'd hold himself uneasily over her. Andre would be smooth. He'd ease onto her like a big cat, muscles velvet. He'd touch her and tickle her, and his lips would dance just as much as his fingers. Beck would be strong. He'd be warm and hard, and make every move so slowly. His blunt fingers found her clit easily, delving through the warm flesh.

Cat exhaled slowly, eyes closing, flickers of flame still swimming around the edges. She was flying now, the bed a cloud beneath her, fingers rubbing furtively between her legs.

Trina would be quick, straight to the point. Cat gasped as Trina's elegantly manicured fingers slipped inside her. Her strokes would be short and shallow, too focussed on getting it over and done with, so she could have her turn. Jade would be cruel. Her fingers curled inside Cat, rocking in hard, almost painful strokes. She'd bite and nip at Cat's throat like a hungry dog. Her hips would grind over Cat's thigh, keeping her pinned in place. Cat would be a meal to her. Tori... Tori would be soft. She'd be full of smiles, of laughter. The kind that warmed your heart instead of scalded it with humiliation. Her fingers whispered inside Cat, steady and gentle, Cat's back arching off the bed. Her lips would press along Cat's jawline, a susurrus of sweet words spilling in her ear. Oh yes, that's how it would feel. That's how it would-

Cat bit back a moan, pearly teeth sinking into her lower lip, her piano keys of muscles all sounding at once, a booming scale. Her hips jumped, pushing into her hand. Her hand. Just hers. Her body relaxed, unwinding and sinking back into her cloud-stuffed mattress. She dragged her hand out, her own fingers appearing short and stubby, nail polish chipped and chewed at.

That's how it would feel with her, with Tori. If only she'd never offered that joint, if only she'd never placed that pale white pill in Tori's hand. If only she'd kept her all for herself, maybe that's how it would've felt. If she'd kept Tori clean, and sweet, and wanting nothing from Cat but her affection. Now all she wanted was Cat's special confections.

That was all anyone wanted, really. And by now, it was all Cat wanted too. Her special little pills. Her illegal apothecary. It fixed all her afflictions. All but one - the gaping hole in her heart. She went to sleep on drifting wings, skin afire and mouth stuffed with feathers, dry and ticklish. She'd see them all tomorrow at school, and they'd greet her with a smile, and for a moment, just a moment, it'd feel real. She'd spent hours tinkering with her medications, trying to replicate what that moment felt like, but the closest she'd come had carried a sense of dread with it.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be bright, and chase away these beasts of the dark that crowded in around her, whispering words in her own soft voice. The word repeated itself as she sank into sleep.

Tomorrow.

/

**A/N: There's something just magical about drugs, isn't there?**

**Wait, I'm pretty sure I'm phrasing that wrong.**

**I mean.**

**The whole concept of drugs is pretty magical. Different chemicals changing your behaviour, your perception, your self. It can heal you, or hurt you, or make you think you can fly. It's like religion in milligram form.**

**Although, I mean... don't do drugs. 'Cause that's bad. Unless you're sick. Do them then. Think of drugs as magic. You wouldn't just cast spells on yourself willy nilly, now would you? I mean do you really trust your skills as a sorcerer? Pffft no, you go to a wizard! By which I mean, doctor. And he uses a magic wand (his pen) to write you out a spell in an ancient language (because how do you even read their writing seriously).**

**I really don't think I'm helping the anti-drug cause right now. v_v**

**Idk, review or something. I'm going to go and think about what I'm doing, and how to stop doing it. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Victorious. Nor do I own any drugs. Both of these things are probably for the best.**

/

Cat clutched her handbag to her stomach, fingers twisting the soft faux leather. At least, she thought it was fake. It smelled like plastic and cigarette smoke, and not like a cow at all. But then, she supposed she didn't really know what a cow smelled like. Probably not very good.

Her stomach churned anxiously. It wasn't her first time going to a party. No, her first time had been long ago, and she hadn't had to actually go anywhere. Her brother had thrown it, and she'd remained cloistered in her room, scared by all the noise and the raucous voices of people she didn't know. That part she still didn't like. She never knew if the voices were raised in anger or happiness, and she was too afraid to track down their owners to find out. She was a purveyor of both emotions anyhow.

Her bag rattled as she lowered it, fingers flexing tighter. She took a deep breath. The night air was cool, punctuated with deep rhythmic rumbles of sound from the house ahead of her. The porch light shone warmly, five or six people grouped out the front of the house, cups lifting to their lips in between conversations. Her brother had dropped her off, a joint pinched between his lips and his arm thrown across the back of her seat. She'd told him it was probably wasn't safe to drive while wearing sunglasses at nighttime, but he'd just ruffled her hair and grinned. She hated it when he did that.

Most of her hated it.

He'd sat up in his seat as she went to climb out, clicking his tongue at her. "Hey, kiddo. Got you a little present."

He'd reached in behind her ear, and when he'd pulled his hand back, a little baggie of red pills had glinted at her. She'd taken it from his fingers curiously, examining the bag. "What are they?"

"New product. What do you want to call them?"

Cat bounced in her seat, car rocking slightly. She loved naming new pills. Her brother would say them in his tough, rough voice, and people would gasp and gush all about them. He made her names real, made them into something people wanted, something people asked for. She pursed her lips, studying the oval pills. "What do they do?"

Her brother chuckled, sliding back down in his worn leather seat. "They make you want to touch."

Cat's brow furrowed. "Touch what?"

"Touch everything." He ran his fingers over the steering wheel. "You can see the sparks come off everything." He wiggled his fingers in front of his face, bringing his joint back to his lips with his other hand, a chunk of ash sloughing off. "You'll love 'em."

Cat tucked the small baggie inside her top. "I'll figure out something perfect for them." She grinned.

Her brother blew a lazy smoke ring, grinning back at her. "I know you will. Let me know how you like 'em, 'kay?"

She touched her hand to her chest now, the baggie a small, hard lump in her bra. Even if her parents gallivanted all over the world without a thought for her, at least her brother did his best to make her feel loved. He might've done some bad things, and hurt more than a few people, but Cat had never been one of them. She'd wanted to invite him in, to be able to look over her shoulder in a crowd of people and know he was there, but he'd had his own event to attend, party favours packed in the trunk.

Cat gathered her courage and walked across the damp grass, handbag held close to her. Her long necklace bounced against her with every step, jingling and jangling to match her many bracelets. All she had to do was go in, and find her friends. She knew they were there; they were the ones who told her about tonight, voices loud and excited. Every time they'd looked at her, it had been with a light in their eyes, a glance at her handbag. _Y____ou've gotta come, it won't be any fun without you_. But the words weren't directed to her. She'd picked at her lunch while they talked about the party, Andre saying he was going to bring his guitar, Beck bringing his camera. Once she'd said she was going, their attention turned away. Just like it always did. She'd stabbed the same lettuce about twenty times, breaking its white spine into pieces, when Tori had spoken to her, voice low.

"Hey, it'll be fun." She'd smiled, teeth gleaming white, and it had been a smile meant just for Cat, small and private, turned away from the rest of the group. Cat's lips had curved into a smile despite herself, fork stopping its assault. She hadn't taken the soft blue pill her therapist prescribed because of that. She hadn't needed it.

Andre was the first one she saw when she entered the house, surrounded by a group of unsteady looking girls, his fingers plucking at a guitar. She didn't bother him, settling for a quick wave. Robbie was in the kitchen, clad in a red plaid shirt and tight black jeans. He'd put too much gel in his hair, curls looking wet and messy. He was shovelling dip-laden corn chips into his mouth, Rex perched on the sink, mouth agape. Robbie greeted Cat with an awkward hug, the smell of beer swirling around him. "Hey! Hey Cat. You made it!" He fixed his slightly askew glasses. "I was gettin' kind of nervous." He attempted a smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "___Really__ ne_rvous, if you get what I mean."

Cat tilted her head, confused.

"Kind of… anxious, you know?" He laughed, the noise barking out.

Cat's shoulders dropped, hands moving to fumble with her bag. "Oh… right." Her voice was quiet, a note of disappointment in it.

"What was that? It's kind of loud in here."

Cat shook her head, pulling a small bag of pills out of her handbag. Anti-anxiety. Took the shake away from your hands… and everything else, too. "Nothing."

Robbie took the bag from her eagerly, opening it up and plucking a pill out. "You want one?" He offered.

Cat shook her head. "I've got something special."

"Cool. Cool cool." Robbie tossed his head back, emptying his cup of beer to wash the pill down, a few drops spilling from his lips to spatter his chin.

Cat left while he swiped a hand over his mouth, shiny lips stretched in a grin. When Robbie rid himself of anxiety, all he ever wanted to do was play pirates, and he had a habit of unsheathing his sword at every opportunity. She just wanted to find Tori. Tori wasn't like everyone else at parties. Not yet. She was still her, with her smiles and her soft touches that fluttered over Cat's shoulders, her arms. She kept her shape, she didn't ooze and melt into the slurring, heavy-handed pools of wax everyone else did. They were candles that had been lit too long, that had sunk and collapsed to sludge. Tori still burned bright, still shone strong. But she was becoming soft to the touch as well. It was only a matter of time before her wick burned down. But not yet. Not yet.

Cat waded through the living room, a swamp of dark, hot bodies jostling against her. Some song that had been mixed and spliced until it was unrecognisable blared from the stereo, edges distorted. The scent of smoke and alcohol, perfume and body odour whirled around her, air thick and heady. She should've worn heels tonight, she should've. Everyone was so tall and broad, movements made careless by the alcohol, by the thumping music. She couldn't even see where she was going. Everyone was closing in, crowding in on her, and it was so dark, so, so dark, and why did they have to block out all the light? They were just shadows moving in strange ways, only solid when they stumbled into her, and she couldn't tell if she was lost in the middle of them, or just spinning around the edges.

She squeaked as the back of her calves hit something hard, wobbling where she stood. A coffee table. She'd somehow ended up in a far corner of the room, a soft light spilled from a knocked over lamp, lampshade askew. She felt a pang of relief as she spotted Jade, reclined on the mustard yellow sofa that lay behind the coffee table. A smile tugged at Cat's lips, hand raising to sketch a wave. She let it drop as she Jade propped herself up on the sofa, smiling as a tall, lean figure straddled her, tan hand on her face. Beck, black tie pulled loose around his neck, belt unbuckled. Jade tugged on the tie, dragging Beck's face down to meet hers, a grin on her lips before they met Beck's. Cat guessed they were back together then. For tonight, at least.

She thought for a moment about going over to them, about shuffling in beside them anyway. She had what they wanted, all neatly stored and separated in bags. Whatever they wanted, she had it. They wouldn't mind her sitting there when she had a whole bag of party favours with her. At least, they wouldn't mind for the five minutes it took to hand them over. And then they'd go back to their soft pants and wet kisses, hands that ran over each other, shrinking back whenever they might accidentally touch Cat.

She should've taken that soft blue pill.

Things were getting overwhelming. There were too many people and it was too loud and she couldn't think with all this churning inside of her or maybe it was outside of her or maybe it was both and she just couldn't-

She had to go somewhere quiet. Somewhere dark and hushed, where the music was nothing but a soft heartbeat through the walls. She squeezed and writhed her way around the edges of the crowd, unaware of the feet she stepped on or the people she elbowed. She just needed to get away, to catch her breath. Maybe she should've taken Robbie's proffered pill, but she had her brother's tucked away next to her heart. She didn't want to muddy the experience.

Cat found a spare room, mercifully free from amorous party-goers. She just needed a moment to clear her head. Or to put something better in it. No one needed her out there, only what she could provide, and if they wanted that, they'd find her. Or just take her bag. It wouldn't be the first time. It was why she kept the new product tucked away in her bra. If anybody reached down there, it wouldn't be because they were looking for drugs.

The room smelled worn, like faded lavender and dust. A place to put relatives, filled with the second-best furniture, the unused mattress, hard and springy, all the bits and pieces that were too nice to throw away but not nice enough to keep close. China dolls perched in a neat row at the foot of the bed, a clock in the shape of a rooster. That much Cat glimpsed before she closed the door behind her and the room plunged into darkness. If rooms were people, this one was a grandmother, soft and floral and comforting, with skin like tissue paper and a robe of flannel. She liked this room. It felt safe, it felt lonely. Like her room. It was away from all the noise, all the bursting energy of scrambled teenagers. Cat hadn't really enjoyed parties once they stopped serving cake.

She took a moment to catch her breath, clearing her lungs of the smog that clogged them. She could smoke in here, if she wanted to. Slide back on the bed and meticulously roll a joint. The smell wouldn't carry, not when there were so many conflicting ones out there. It didn't feel right though, to make this room smell of something other than memories. It'd feel like a desecration, not just to the family but to the house itself. There was a sort of holiness to a room like this, although Cat wasn't sure how to explain it.

She sat her handbag on the bedside table. She could just have her own party in here. She had pills that could make her just as giddy, just as breathless, and she wouldn't get shoved about either. She swung her feet up on the bed, propping herself against the headboard. Maybe this was why the loneliness gnawed at her heart. Because she gave it so very much to eat. If she just took something, anything, she could be out there dancing and laughing and grinding with the rest of them, sweat beading on her neck and bass pounding through her bones. Cat could be one of them, she could. She had been before, but it all dissolved in the morning. It all turned to dust, and Cat was sick of breathing it in. She shouldn't have come tonight, she _wouldn't _have come.

But Tori had said it would be fun.

"Hey? Anyone in here?" There was a rap at the door, light wedging itself into the room as the knob twisted.

Cat's first thought was to be quiet, to stay still on the bed, and maybe they'd leave. But maybe they were just looking for a refuge like she was. "Y-yeah." She stuttered. "I am. Me."

The door opened wider. "Cat? Is that you?"

"I think so."

The figure entered the room, closing the door softly. "Yep, it's you." She laughed, voice slightly hoarse. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Cat scooted to the edge of the bed. "Tori?"

"Yep." Tori moved closer, a lound thunk sounding. "Crap." She swore. "I can't see anything in the dark. Where's the light switch?"

"___No!__ N_o, don't… don't turn it on, Tor." Cat felt the mattress sink as Tori sat beside her, a dry rustle sounding as Tori rubbed her jeans-clad shin.

"Okay. But why?"

Cat shrugged uselessly. "It's better." Tori's voice felt warmer in here, even with its strained edges. She couldn't see where Tori's eyes went, whether they lingered over her… or over the bag that rested on the bedside table. In the dark she could pretend it was before. Before she did to Tori what she did to everyone else.

"What are you doing in here?"

Cat's fingers writhed together in her lap. "Waiting."

"Until…?"

"Until I can stand to go back out there."

Tori's fingers stumbled over Cat's shoulders clumsily before settling, warm and firm. "Then why'd you come?"

Cat fought the urge to shrug. She might shake off Tori's hand. "Everyone wanted me to." She was silent for a moment. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Because I wanted to find you, silly." Tori couldn't see Cat's smile in the dark. "What did you bring?"

Cat's smile faded away. Tori's hand slid off her as she reached for the handbag, passing it to where she could just barely see Tori's form. "Everything. You can take it with you, if you want. It's still pretty full."

"Cool." There was a slight sound as the bag was lowered to the ground. "I'll have a look later."

Cat blinked. "Later?"

"Yeah." Tori flopped back on the bed with a sigh. "I thought I'd stay in here for a while. It's insane out there." She turned on her side, prodding Cat where she thought her back was. "Did you see Beck and Jade? They're all over each other out there."

"Y-yeah… I did." Cat's tongue tripped over words, hands pooled in her lap.

Tori propped herself up. "Oh… I'm not bugging you, am I? Did you want to be alone?"

"___No__!_ No, it's fine, I just-" Cat caught herself, fingers balling into fists. Maybe she was insane. It was easier to pretend in the dark, maybe she was just imagining this whole thing? Or maybe Tori had snuffed her flame out, wax hardening. Maybe she wasn't like everyone else. "Just… my brother gave me some new stuff to try."

Tori sat up, shoulder bumping into Cat's, warm and bare. "Really? What's it called?"

Cat reached down her top, pulling out the baggie, plastic heated from her body. "I haven't decided yet." She licked her lips, opening the small bag. Her gaze stroked Tori's face, what little she could make out of it.

"Want to try one?"

/

**A/N: For my favourite.**

**Reviews are the best thing in the world. Apart from that true love stuff and those miracles what sometimes happen. And purposeful bad grammar. That stuff is the most fun, I swear. It's like being one of those religious people in Footloose who hated dancing, but then secretly twerking it in your bathroom when no one's looking, such is the joy of intentional bad grammar.**

**Try it sometime. Toss some words that really don't belong in your intended sentence in there. Just anywhere through it. 'What' and 'is' and 'reckon' are always in/appropriate. Even just a loud braying sound will do.**

**But don't do that in your reviews. I demand utter impeccable perfection from them. That's right, I want you to capitalize 'update!1!' this time. And less braying noises _would_ be good.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Victorious is not mine, nor are any drugs.**

* * *

"Are those stars?"

Cat licked her lips, index finger thrusting at the ceiling. There were bright specks all over it, twinkling and sparkling.

Tori laughed, a hiccup in her voice. "We're inside! They can't be stars. Maybe..." Her voice drifted. "Maybe they're glow worms? Or maybe... maybe the ceiling is covered in little pinpricks, and they let the light in?"

The two of them lay on the bed, close but separate, legs dangling off the edge. Cat's baggie was crumpled on the bedside table, a couple of pills still inside. They'd tasted like syrup, sweet all the way down, silk on Cat's tongue. At first she'd felt nothing, despite her empty stomach. It'd started there, a hot pooling sensation, like she'd drank a bowl full of warm honey, let it drip down the back of her throat. Some sweet medicine.

"What if the ceiling was made of glass? They could be stars then." Cat swore she could make out constellations, spattering the sky above her.

"Yeah... you're right." Tori rolled on her side. "Maybe it is a glass ceiling." She reached a hand out lazily, tracing a finger down Cat's arm. "I wouldn't have thought of- _whoa_."

Cat shivered, a line of fire searing her arm where Tori's fingertip traced.

Tori repeated the motion, propping herself up. "Did you feel that?"

Cat swallowed hard, heart thudding in her chest. "Mhm. What is it?"

"Is it the pills?"

Cat's palm stroked over the bed cover, the scratchy floral print like warm fur under her hand. "I think it is." She rolled to face Tori, the girl's face barely lit in the dark room. "Can I... can I touch you?"

"Sure." Breathed Tori, curling her fingers into her palm.

Cat's hand reached out tentatively, knuckles brushing Tori's temple. She amended her aim, fingertips stroking the brunette's cheek with a feather touch. A shower of softly-glowing sparks was left behind, warm orange. A jolt ran through Cat, like those sparks had shocked straight through her to sting her heart. "Do you see them?"

Tori's eyes fluttered shut, an unsteady breath escaping her. "S-see what?"

"The sparks." Cat repeated her touch, fingertips tickling under Tori's chin.

"I can... I can feel them." Murmured Tori slowly, shaking in her voice. She opened her eyes, grabbing Cat's wrist. She studied Cat's hand in the dark, warm breath shivering against the redhead's palm. "You're glowing." She ran her fingers over the back of Cat's hand. "I'm lighting you up."

Tori's touch was like fire playing over her skin, licking and scorching everywhere her fingers tiptoed. It set her nerves afire, made her blood steam in her veins. "What colour am I?" She whispered. She couldn't move her arm if she wanted to. And she didn't want to.

"_Red_." The word was inscribed on her with Tori's breath, followed by a sear of heat, a flush of softness. Tori's lips, pressed to her palm, a branding iron on her soft skin.

Cat quivered, a soft sound falling from her lips. Tori let her hand go, Cat's arm falling limply back to the bed, Tori's fingers quick to caress Cat's forearm, scrape up her shoulder. Her nails prickled Cat's back, sharp between her shoulderblades. "You're so bright."

Cat could see the smouldering flame between them, the light emanating from wherever Tori's flesh touched her. Hot lines where their arms touched, almost too bright to look at. A throb of deep burnt orange pounded within Tori, spidering out to touch Cat where Tori's chest rose and fell against hers, brushing with every breath. "_Tori._" The word was barely a whimper, a plea. She was like the sunset, or the sunrise, something great and bright and powerful. Too big to comprehend, and Cat wanted to see her rise and fall like she knew she could.

"I know." Tori's breath pushed against her, whispering fingertips on her cheek, drawing her closer.

Tori's forehead was hot, burning like she had a fever, without the fine patina of sweat that comes with it. It wasn't a glow of sickness, nor of health, but something beyond that. Like the pills had shifted reality just slightly, and put them on a different frequency. They'd switched radio stations, gone from all talk to something low and throbbing. Something that crawled inside Cat's bones and made them whisper to one another. If she listened closely, listened below the noise, she could hear Tori's bones spreading secrets. She wanted to touch them, stroke them and amplify the sound, she wanted to hear all they had to say, hear the soft words spoken through Tori's skin.

Being with Tori was like laying in the sun, an arm thrown over your eyes, skin hot and tight, stretched thin. Not just like this, not just on this nameless drug, but all the time. She made Cat feel the sort of peace felt when lying alone, the wind whistling songs through the grass and the clouds melting across the sky at such a leisurely pace, great streaks of whipped cream. Scudding. That was the word for it. They seemed so still, so grand, but they moved faster than she ever could. Tori was a snatched moment of peace, and one that Cat grabbed at with the guilt of a child. She'd been told not to touch, but she couldn't help it.

She wanted to grab now, to reach for something to bring Tori even closer, to push every possible part of herself against the girl on fire. She wanted to bask in that warm light, to feel it lick at her skin with a hungry tongue, and she wondered if it was the same for Tori. That longing for touch, for taste. To be closer and closer until-

Lips. Lips so hot they stuck to hers, melting together and she could taste, she could _drink_ in Tori's very essence. It was a kiss. A simple little thing, but it wasn't. It was just a motion, just fragile flushed skin touched together, sewn with shivering breaths. Cinnamon. Tori tasted like cinnamon, like something warm and comforting, a fragrant scent in the air to make your stomach rumble, to make your mouth water. She was cinnamon sprinkled on top of hot chocolate, a twist of a taste, to sip on a cold, bitter day. She was sunshine in the morning, when the air is solemn and still from the night. There were so many things hidden inside Tori, in her breath, in her heartbeat, and this little pill made them bubble to the surface. This little pill let her taste everything Tori was, and it wasn't what she had eaten, or drank, or smoked. It was her, through and through. It was Tori on her tongue, Tori dripping down the back of her throat to fill her lungs. It was Tori, and she was cinnamon.

"Strawberries." Tori whispered, lips shaping the syllables on Cat's own, breathing it into her. "You taste just like strawberries." And then her words stopped being audible, stopped being formed by her lips, and instead were spread by her tongue, traced into Cat's teeth, tapped into Cat's own tongue.

Tori's touches were hot blossoms of sunlight, bright orange flowers blooming under her fingers, rooting themselves in Cat's skin, twisting in her muscles, infiltrating her blood stream with delicate tendrils. Her body warmed Cat's like sunlight, lit up the room until even the starred ceiling grew dim. She shone like a torch through Cat, turning her skin to glowing red, and her sweet, cinnamon-dusted lips poured molten light inside of her.

Cat had been on and off drugs since she was twelve. Ever since her first therapist had looked down at her through half-moon glasses and announced that she wasn't right. That she was mixed up and messed up and wrong. But don't worry; they could fix that. The first pill they gave her had tasted like mint, with a sickly sweet aftertaste. It made her mouth numb, and her heart beat heavily. The next one they gave her was better, unless she forgot to take it. Then life was through a kaleidoscope, her moods were mix and match, and nothing but that pill brought her back to numb normalcy.

Her brother had started his hobby a year later. Cat wasn't sure how, she'd never seen fit to ask. If she was a car crash of a girl, her brother was a train wreck. Just a lot less suicidal. She supplied him, and he supplied her, and Cat figured out a way to make herself work. It was all a balancing act. She'd tried everything under the sun, even if she wasn't sure of the name of most of them. Just the colours, just the tastes, just the sensations. Of all the drugs she'd tried, she'd been alone. Whether she'd tried them in a crowd, or with a friend, or even with her brother, she'd been alone. Alone in her body, alone in her mind, alone in her experience.

This was different.

She wasn't alone. Tori was with her, Tori bled through her, Tori burned and seethed against her. They were lit with the same fire, and the pills were just embers that shattered from a larger burning coal. Or maybe they'd been chipped off some shooting star Cat had wistfully wished upon, a wish to feel something, anything with someone. To feel something with Tori. She was feeling everything, and it was more vivid and more intense than anything she'd ever felt before, and maybe it was a way of catching up, of making up for all those missed experiences, all those casual affections everyone else seemed to have.

But oh, Tori's lips were so soft. Underneath the fire, under the smouldering heat that rushed into her lungs with every breath, under the redhot tip of Tori's tongue was such softness, such sweetness. It made her heart run red, made her mouth feel such an improbable thing. To use her lips for talking when they were so obviously made for this. When they fit Tori's so snugly, so warmly. Cat had never realised how very cold she was, how very dark it was. And now the sun had risen, bright and shining and warm, _so warm_, that Cat could barely stand to think of the night that would come again.

The minutes bled by, a drop at a time, and Cat quickly lost count of them, of how many she'd spent in here with Tori, tangled in touch. How much she had left to lose, before the music died and the lights came on, and the drug leached out of her veins. Tori's fingers roamed dreamily under her shirt, without design or purpose. Over her shoulderblades, the small of her back, the flatness of her stomach. She raked tingling traces over every warm expanse of skin that she could, stirring the coals. After a long, slow kiss punctuated by breath and gasp, she murmured in a sleeping voice, "You feel like velvet." And the kiss that had followed had been harder, forced forward by Cat, by the incessant thrust of her heart.

_Velvet_. And oh yes, that was what Tori felt like too. The inside of her mouth, the small of her back, everywhere else Cat's trembling fingers dared to caress. Reality felt so far away, a wobbling dream outside these dark walls, this room that smelled of faded memories. It all whirled together, one great glowing globe of light, all emanating from Tori. She painted Cat with her fingers, with her lips, and Cat's last coherent memory was of burning, of bursting open from the inside and letting a great light out, like she'd been hiding the sun in her stomach this whole time, and now it was time for it to rise.

The last taste on her tongue was cinnamon.

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**A/N: Fun fact, there is a drug like this in existence. IT'S CALLED LOVE. LOVE FOR REVIEWS. And I'm just hooked on the stuff.**

**Please, give me my fix. Just once, man. Just one word. One little word. That's all I need. Just to get me by.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Victorious is not owned by me and it never will be.**

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Cat woke up to bright light and warm bodies, a familiar combination. She was cocooned on either side, by boys, by girls. They slept soundly, arms thrown out carelessly or tucked in awkwardly underneath, some with a foot dangling from the edge of the bed. There were more teenagers scattered on the floor, curled up around each other. There wasn't anyone Cat recognised. Tori was gone.

There was a certain comfort in waking up among such messily slumbering people. It gave Cat a feeling similar to visiting a pet store, and seeing a pile of puppies draped over each other in a quiet, occasionally twitching heap. The kids may have been such ugly things in the darkness, full of jagged moves and harsh voices, but sleeping they were peaceful. They slept more soundly and more affectionately than they'd care to admit upon waking. It was one of Cat's favourite parts of parties, really. The morning after. She liked to wake up first, to scrounge breakfast while a house full of people slept around her. It didn't feel like being alone, then. She could imagine they'd wake up, and walk into the kitchen like it was the most natural thing, and ask what was she making? Could they have some? But all too often she was met only with grunts. With red, bleary eyes and clammy hands, pushing her aside so they could vomit in the sink. No, the mornings were nicer when no one woke up.

She eased the door to the room open, the smell of lavender gone, replaced with smoke and snores. The boy cloistered behind the door moaned and rolled over as the door nudged him, Cat slipping out the small gap and closing it behind her. Her handbag was in the hall, lying on its side. Cat stooped to pick it up, hand knocking over a crushed can next to it. The bag was empty. Not that Cat had expected anything different. She ran a finger along the lining at the bottom, feeling a couple of hard lumps. She picked the seams open, fingernail edging the small pills out. At least she had something left. She just needed water to take them with. She was accustomed to swallowing them dry, but her mouth felt raw and cracked, tongue mossy and thick. She wasn't sure she could conjure enough moisture to stop them sticking in her throat.

The kitchen was empty, a few pizza boxes and bottles strewn across the counters. She opened the refrigerator, scanning the contents. She was supposed to take one of these pills with food, she was pretty sure. On the other hand, she was sure the other caused nausea if taken with food. Cat grabbed a can of beer from the fridge, the only thing left in it, and shut the door. They'd balance each other out, Cat was sure. And beer had hops in it, which her brother said could almost count as a vegetable. She cracked the can open, chipping the nail polish on her index finger in a long streak. It just about matched her other nails, now. She popped the small pills on her tongue, taking a sip of the cold beer. She grimaced, taking another mouthful. Whatever her brother said about beer, she was sure it wasn't meant for breakfast.

The cold liquid woke her up, the last vestiges of sleep and warmth shedding from her skin. It was a chilly morning, and she was no longer numb enough to ignore it. She slipped the empty bag around her shoulder, still sipping at the icy beer, bitterness on her tongue. It obliterated the echo of cinnamon still left behind. It was bright outside, sun lighting up the white front of the house. The knob to the front door was warm as she closed it, steel glinting in the light. There was a part of Cat that loved morning itself, even more than she loved the heaviness of night, a blanket of darkness to hide under. The air was different in the morning. It was stiller. Colder. Like the sun hadn't yet had a chance to sizzle it, to make it smoke and waver and wobble. It was fresh air, air that hadn't been through a thousand lungs yet. Cat knew it was probably a silly thing to think, but every breath she took in the morning felt like her first breath, and every exhale felt like an expelling of toxins, of fluids she no longer needed clouding her lungs.

Or maybe it was just the pills. She'd become accustomed to pinning her every thought to them, just as everyone else did. Maybe her personality consisted of nothing more than the various chemicals she imbibed. She could build herself to be whoever she wanted.

She meandered down the driveway of the house, clusters of marigolds lining the sides. She bent down to pick one, a brilliant red, edged in a burning golden orange. It was brilliant in the bright light, a drop of blood in her palm, edged with fire. She stroked the yellow heart of it with a fingertip, softly, softly. She'd always liked marigolds. She liked flowers in general, really. They were the only things in the world that weren't afraid to be bright. That didn't dull their colours and try to blend in, for fear of predators. They wanted to be seen, they wanted to be sought out. Brightness in animals only served as a warning, but flowers? The harmless ones were the prettiest of all.

The petals were velvet in her palm, smooth and sleek. They caused a shiver in her, and she let the flower slip from her hand, fingers curling. _You feel like velvet_. Cat stooped, setting the half-empty beer can on the driveway with trembling fingers, the marigold blossom skipping away on a slight breeze. She remembered now. Tori's throbbing orange heart. The burning ash of her skin, soft, so soft. But not quite so soft as her lips, her cinnamon dusted mouth.

Cat brought her fingers to her lips, tracing her nail over them lightly, as if searching for some scar Tori had left, some indelible mark. A burn. But there was nothing but the memory of those sparks, a memory of a warm summer day, watching the clouds scud overhead. Cat's finger slipped to her heart. It had beat heavy and red against Tori, under her fingers, under her skin, just as Tori had slipped sparks into Cat's blood, injected herself into Cat's veins with no more than a touch, a stroke. There was a slight crinkling noise as Cat's fingertip traversed the dip between her breasts. Curious, she dug her fingers inside her top, pulling out a small baggie, warm from her body heat. Two of the cherry red pills glinted at her, bright in the sunlight. She didn't remember putting them back in there. Maybe Tori had, before she'd left. The thought twisted in Cat's heart. She could've taken them. Tori could've taken them, but she hadn't. And maybe, just maybe, she'd left Cat with a kiss on the cheek. Maybe she hadn't wanted to go, maybe she'd tried to wake Cat up.

Cat sighed, derailing her train of thought. Or maybe Tori just wasn't a thief. What they'd done last night, oh, what they'd done... it had just been the drugs. Cat trudged to the end of the driveway, starting along the side of the road. There was a little cafe not too far from here. Maybe twenty minutes of walking. There was a payphone there she could use to call her brother. The cheap, prepaid phone she'd brought to the party had been in the handbag. She was accustomed to losing phones by now. What they'd done, Cat mused, had been amazing. She'd kissed boys before, and she'd kissed girls before, and she'd done it under the influence of anything and everything, but nothing, _nothing_ could compare to kissing Tori last night. It'd been like having magma drip into her veins, boiling and steaming. Like embracing a supernova at its very brightest. It had just been the drugs, sure. It had just been the drugs for Tori. The fluttering in Cat's heart informed her that it was more than that for her. Tori's fingers had been so careful, so gentle. They'd traced Cat's skin like it was a fragile, precious thing. Like Cat was made of tissue paper and eggshells, a craft project of a girl, and one Tori wanted to carefully sculpt. Her lips had been soft, but so insistent, only breaking for breath or a slurred word.

It had been everything Cat's fingers had promised, when they'd delved into her pants the night before. Everything she'd thought Tori's touch would be. But that was the one place Tori's fingers hadn't ventured. They'd been content to scour the red-headed girl's torso, raising sparks and ribbons of red. They'd never so much as dipped into Cat's panties. She wondered if Tori remembered all that had happened. If maybe that had been why she was gone when Cat woke up. Cat supposed she'd find out at school, if Tori's eyes suddenly grew shy when looking at her.

She trudged along the cracked footpath, passing modest houses with large yards. Some manicured, some left to run rampant. She liked the wild ones. They spoke of a certain chaos, of a certain strength. Neglect hadn't weakened the vines and branches of these plants. In fact, it was being tended that confined them, trimmed their shoots and kept them orderly. A great gnarled tree squatted in one yard, branches forking out like spread hands. It was an eyesore, a hulking, ugly thing. There were scars on the bones of its branches, attempts to tame its spread, but it grew regardless. There was a certain insidious strength in plants that Cat admired. No matter the conditions, something would always grow.

She supposed she'd learned the love of plants from her brother, although his affections took a more illegal bent. Cat felt a sudden pang of regret that she hadn't taken the marigold blossom with her. There was something upsetting to her about picking that flower and then forgetting it. She'd ended its life without a care, and tossed it aside just as easily. Maybe it was just the pills talking. One of them made her fixate.

Birdsong filtered through the still air, pavement starting to heat up under the incessant sun. Maybe it was just the drugs. That may as well have been her motto, for all the times she'd thought it. For all the times people had asked her. As if they weren't on drugs themselves. Caffeine, nicotine, alcohol, antidepressants, anti-anxiety, blood pressure pills, cholesterol pills, ibuprofen, paracetamol, diuretics, cough syrup, codeine, morphine. Everyone was on something. Cat was just on everything. But people acted as if their drug of choice gave them some moral superiority over her, just because it was deemed more acceptable, more legal. Cat's brother had ranted to her since puberty about the unfairness of it all. He'd argued that most medicines, most drugs, were just poisons in tiny doses, and what was the point in deeming your poison less potent than another? Take too much of anything and it'll kill you all the same.

The tiny cafe came into view, a single middle-aged man seated at one of the wrought-iron tables that rusted in front. His newspaper shielded his face, lowering every so often so he could take a slow, pensive sip of his coffee, fingers looking too big for the delicate cup. A small bell jingled as she entered, the smell of coffee making her stomach rumble angrily. Cat reached into her handbag, a finger probing where she'd worked apart the lining earlier. Her fingertips found a folded bill, tugging it out gently. She had enough for a small coffee, maybe even one of the buttery looking croissants that lay behind a glass counter near the register. The barista greeted her with a grin, the nametag pinned to her navy apron reading _Jennifer_. Cat placed her order, exchanging a few pleasantries with the barista. How lovely a day it was, how they hoped it would stay sunny, but rain never did hurt. It was a conversation Cat had with adults all day, but Jennifer spoke with such enthusiasm it left the red-headed smiling more than she was accustomed to.

Cat picked a table inside, one right next to a large window. The croissant was fresh, pastry sweet and flaky. A few drizzles of chocolate striped it, brittle when Cat bit down on them. She let them melt on her tongue before she took a sip of her coffee, something small and plain and sickeningly sweet. Cat had added enough sugar to turn the drink into more of a syrup, the taste coating her tongue and lingering long after. She looked out the window as she ate. The man with the newspaper had left, a dirty cup on the wrought iron table the only sign he was ever there. Cat watched the people that passed. Some of them were in a hurry, suits and skirts and shiny black shoes. Cat's favourite were the couple walking their dog, a tiny, fluffy white cloud of a canine. It would dart forward to sniff at something, stopping dead before springing off to the side. Its lead was pulled taut, jerked back and forth by its frantic motions. The couple never even paused in their conversation, simply tugging the dog along when it lagged behind.

Cat finished her croissant with relish, dabbing her finger on the small crumbs and flakes left on her plate. She had enough change left over to call her brother. She made her way to where the beat-up relic of a payphone lay, opposite the bathrooms. There were numbers scrawled on the side, swear words and quotes and tiny drawings crowding the flecked paint. She picked up the handset, dialtone humming in her ear. The coins clicked into the slot, her fingers picking out the number for her brother's mobile. She held her finger down on the last number, the tone howling in her ear before she let it go, a soft ringing replacing it.

"Hello?" Her brother's voice was clear, if slightly shivery. Cat suspected that he'd been awake all night again. She'd have to take care of dinner for them while he slept tonight.

"Hey." She said softly. "I'm ready to come home." Cat twisted a lock of her ruby hair between her fingers, knuckles brushing between her breasts, where the small baggie was concealed. A smile flitted onto Cat's lips. "Oh, and I've got a name for you."

"So you tried the new stuff, huh? What'd you come up with?"

Cat's smile swelled bigger, traceries of Tori's whispers in her lips.

"Red Velvet."

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**A/N: Reviews are like hugs. Most of the time they're comforting, heartwarming, and create a certain affection in both parties. Other times they're just polite ones where your bodies don't touch and maybe there's some air kissing. And sometimes they're ones you don't expect and they catch you by surprise and you just freeze because what's happening are you dying is this it.**

**So hug me, brotha.**


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